


I'm Afraid

by cloakoflevitation



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders-centric, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Deceit and Virgil have a complicated relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Everyone Gets A Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, but they're okay for the most part, sort of i guess, the rating is because I had Virgil swear twice I think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 10:31:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18915145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloakoflevitation/pseuds/cloakoflevitation
Summary: Your standard accepting Virgil fic idea. I wanted some angsty vibes and this is what I eventually wrote.Basically, the others are having a hard time accepting Virgil and it makes him angsty and hurt and there's lots of feelings. Unexpected Roman feelings/angst occurred towards the end.Really it's just about the feelings and the angst and then of course, the fluffy, happy, warm ending!No warnings beyond swearing.





	I'm Afraid

“You called?”

Roman scowled. “We most certainly did _not.”_

“We’re just talking about the schedule.” Patton gave him a sympathetic smile. “I think we were almost done though, if you have other things to do…”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “If you don’t want me here then just say so.”

“– that’s not what I meant –”

“– we don’t want you here –”

 _“I think,”_ Logan spoke over the other two, “what they are trying to say is maybe you should go back to your room.”

Surprise flooded him, but it was followed immediately by frustration. _What did you really expect?_ He disappeared without another word.

He stood frozen where he had appeared in his room, carefully keeping himself together. _It’s fine. It’s okay. You’re okay._ Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

A knock at his door startled him. “What?” He snarled, his voice sounding far too shaky to be as intimidating as he had wanted.

“Missed me?”

Virgil sighed, tugging at the edges of his jacket, smoothing down the front. Then he scowled when he realized what he was doing. _Why does it matter what you look like? It’s just him._

A singsong voice came from the other side of the door again. “Lying to ourselves are we?”

Virgil ripped the door open, giving Deceit a deadpan look. “What do you want?”

“Tsk tsk. You have to ask?” At Virgil’s raised eyebrow, Deceit rolled his eyes, crooning, “I’ve missed you, Anxiety.”

His hands clutched the edge of the door harder. “It’s Virgil now. But you know that.”

Deceit smiled, pushing past him into the room.

“Sure, please, come right on in, Deceit,” Virgil mumbled sarcastically, trying his best not to fidget.

“How _kind_ of you.” Deceit sat down on the edge of the bed, watching him shut the door and run a hand through his hair.

Virgil tried not to squirm under his gaze, pulling the sleeves of his jacket over his hands and then shoving them into his pockets.

Deceit’s gaze travelled up and down Virgil. “You look like shit.”

“Can I _help you?”_

Deceit winced slightly. “Sit.” He motioned for Virgil to sit on the bed next to him. “Come _here.”_

Against his better judgement, Virgil shuffled his way over and crawled across his bed so he could sit with his back to the wall. Deceit shifted to sit next to him, their shoulders brushing.

“The others are getting restless,” Deceit said softly, a jarring difference to his tone before. “They’re gonna show themselves soon.” _The other dark sides._ Deceit chuckled a little, looking up at the ceiling. “And the golden boys have barely learned to deal with you and me.”

Virgil made a noise that might have passed as amusement. “Another side might actually break Roman.”

Deceit made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. He turned slightly to look at Virgil and then turned back.

Virgil sighed. “Roman’s been… I don’t know. I guess it’s no worse than normal, but he just –” He let out a frustrated huff of breath that ruffled his bangs. “He hates me. He _hates_ me! And it’s not fair.” He picked up his head and let it fall back against the wall with a thud. “I can’t help who I am anymore than you can! And he knows that!”

“He may be the creative side but his thought process is rather… hmm… traditional. Limited. He has a hard time seeing us as anything other than _evil.”_ Deceit’s mouth twisted unpleasantly, a bitterness curling around his last word.

But it was another word that caught Virgil’s attention. _Us._ There had been a time they had been an “us,” when it was them against the world. But that time had long since passed. Now… now things were different. He leaned away, giving Deceit a pointed look. “To be fair, I’m actively trying...” _To be good?_ He winced at the unspoken words, awkwardly finishing, “...not to be bad. But _you_ on the other hand…”

Deceit crossed his arms, his fingers tapping against his skin in concealed irritation. “There’s always more than you can see,” he said stiffly, his clipped tone warning Virgil not to push it. “Two sides to everything.” They were both silent for a few heartbeats. “And the others?”

“Patton’s trying not to be outright abrasive. Logan’s too blunt to sugarcoat anything.” Virgil took a deep breath and held it for a moment. “But he’s nice sometimes though.” He shook his head, catching himself. “They’re _all_ nice _sometimes."_

Deceit waved his hand dismissively. “Tell me about Logan.”

Virgil gave a half-hearted shrug. “He checks in with me, when we’re all together. He’s the only one who seems to care about when I’m getting overstimulated.” His face scrunched up as he caught himself again. “Well Patton _cares._ But Logan… I don’t know… he can spot my tells. And he helps me sometimes.”

“But sometimes…?”

And there was the catch, wasn’t it? Every so often, the others would do something, say something, and warmth would bloom in his chest. He would feel safe, _loved,_ even. But that didn’t happen too often. It didn’t happen consistently. More often than not, the others seemed to just barely tolerate his presence. Their conversations were polite and awkward and stilted. Then something would happen, and he would express his concerns (or sometimes, he was willing to admit, it was less expressing concerns and more prophesying the apocalypse because Thomas had decided to go out to dinner with his friends, but he was _anxiety,_ that was his _job)._ And then they would fight. Patton would try to stay out of it, but when he did intervene, his remarks always cut deep. Logan and Roman were quick-witted and sometimes caustic, particularly Roman. And it didn’t help that Virgil was just as vicious in his side of the arguments.

And it had more or less always been like that, ever since the others had known about him. But lately, ever since they had agreed to work towards acceptance, it had been worse. Because those precious few moments when they were actually kind to each other haunted Virgil. He could imagine a life, a happy one, with them. He could seem them sitting down for dinners together or playing board games or having movie nights. He could see himself opening up to them, developing relationships and trust. So it hurt all the more when they judged him for what his job was, for _who_ he was. It made their dismissals and their agitation with his thoughts and fears twist the knife in just a little deeper.

He sighed, the bitterness of his thoughts burning the back of his throat and his eyes. Somewhere along the way, the hope he saw in their softer, warmer moments had turned sharper and venomous.

He was so tired of it all.

“They still hate me.” Virgil glared at the wall across from him. “I’m tired of playing the villain. They don’t listen and they don’t care and they can’t see I’m just trying to help. I’m sick of being hated because I’m a dark side!”

Deceit grabbed a pillow and laid his head on it, stretching out to lay across the bed. His hand came up to tilt his hat to cover his face.

“Sometimes…” He hesitated, watching Deceit for a moment, unsure if he was actually going to say how he was feeling out loud. His voice dropped to a whisper, “Sometimes I think it was better when they were afraid of me. At least then I didn’t get my hopes up.”

“Then make them fear you again,” Deceit parried back, not missing a beat. “No one’s stopping you.”

“Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should.”

“Ha,” he huffed humorlessly. “Which one of them said that? Oh let me guess: Patton.”

The edge of Virgil’s mouth pulled up in the tiniest of smiles. “He’s got a saying for everything.”

“You care about them.”

It sounded like an accusation. Virgil waited, not sure what Deceit was trying to say.

“Why are you in here talking to _me?_ I’m sure _they_ would love to have a heart to heart with you.”

Virgil flicked his arm, scowling at him, despite the fact that Deceit’s hat was currently covering his face. “This? This is _not_ a heart to heart.” His eyes wandering around the room until the silence was too much. “I’m not telling them because… because…”

“Because what if they don’t care,” Deceit started in a tired voice. “What if they think you’re being too sensitive, that you’re too much work. What if they know how they’re making you feel and it’s what they intended. What if they don’t _want_ you.”

“I hate you.” He decidedly ignored the _feelings_ welling up in his chest.

Deceit lifted his hat off his face long enough to shoot Virgil a sour look. “Aw, I love you too, babe,” he drawled, sarcasm dripping off the pet name. He covered his face again and his voice returned to normal. “You’re just mad that I’m right. I know you too well.”

Virgil decided that wasn’t worth validating with a response.

“Do whatever you want. But do something. Don’t just sit here and let your fears eat you alive.”

“Aw,” Virgil shot back, “If I didn’t know better I’d say you cared.”

“Oh shut up.”

Virgil crawled to the edge of his bed to grab his headphones and his phone from his desk, ignoring Deceit’s muttered curses as the bed dipped. He settled back to his position, leaning against the wall. Pulling up some angry punk songs to match his mood, he turned the volume up and closed his eyes.

He didn’t know how long it had been, but when he felt Deceit moving, he cracked open an eye. Deceit was standing at the edge of the bed now, brushing wrinkles from his shirt and fixing his hat. When he caught Virgil’s gaze, he winked. Virgil paused his music, pulling his headphones down to ask where he was going, but Deceit was halfway to the door and spoke before he could. Maybe he could see the question forming on Virgil’s face or maybe he felt like he needed to explain himself. “Two sides to everything.” He swung the door open, his smile sharp enough to cut glass. “I still hate you.”

And then he was gone, shutting the door smartly behind him.

_Liar._

Virgil pulled his headphones back on, switching to more melancholic music now. He’d let himself be miserable a while longer before deciding what he was going to do.

*

He was trying (and failing) to meditate. He knew the breathing was good for him, he knew it helped center him and calm him down. It was just so hard to do. It felt impossible to sit still and harder yet to quiet his mind. But he did it, or tried, because he knew it would help.

But he readily abandoned his meditation attempts when there was a knock at his door. At the rate today was going, he was becoming downright popular.

“Virgil? I know you are inside.”

He scowled. It was Logan.

“I’m not going away until I have spoken with you.”

A flare of anger spiked in Virgil. How dare Logan show up and make demands. How dare he act as though he had the right. As if they were _friends._

Something clicked in Virgil’s mind, and he could feel himself slipping, falling, returning to habits he had tried so hard to stop, but he found he didn’t care. He wanted this, he needed this. He was tired of being hurt, tired of being vulnerable, tired of playing like he was anything other than what they all knew he was.

He knew it was twisted, but he clung to the sick thoughts suddenly bombarding his mind. In an instant, he had committed himself to seeing this play out.

The room was plunged into darkness. The door slowly swung open.

“Virgil?” Logan took a hesitant step into the room, and then another, and then another. He stopped just before he was in the center of the room, squinting into the inky shadows. “Virgil?”

The door slammed shut, making Logan jump.

 **“You shouldn’t have come here.”** He could scarcely make out the way Logan seemed to shiver, hearing the deep echo of Virgil’s ‘scary’ voice. **“You know what my room does to you.”**

“I - I needed to talk to you. You seemed upset -”

**“How else was I supposed to feel?”**

The question hung in the air. Logan pushed his glasses up on his nose. “What do you mean?”

**“I’m tired of the games. I’m tired of pretending. Aren’t you?”**

“Virgil, you’re not making sense -”

 **“I know you hate me!** I know all of you do!” His voice caught, the echo falling away so it was just his normal voice again. His hands clenched into fists, fingernails digging into his palms. He couldn’t do this. He didn’t want to talk about through things, to have to explain himself or listen to the others explain; he just wanted to hurt. And he wanted someone else to hurt with him.

Logan took a step in his general direction. “Where are you? Turn on the lights. Come outside with me and let’s talk, _please.”_

**“No.”**

“I can’t stay in here. Come outside with me, I think we would all benefit from a group discussion about how we are perceiving -”

Something truly horrible curled around Virgil’s heart. A terrible, humorless grin spread across his face. **“Who says I’m letting you leave?”**

Logan’s voice was careful, oh so careful. “Virgil…”

 **“I’m tired of playing good. You want me to be the villain? Fine, I’ll be the villain.”** A wild, reckless feeling flooded his chest. Everything felt so much, so real (was this real?). He walked around the edge of the room as he spoke, slowly coming up to Logan from behind. **“After all, it’s what I’m** **_good_ ** **at.”**

Logan spun around, trying to face him, trying to find where he was in the dark. “You need to let me out,” he pleaded, his normally level voice beginning to show far too much emotion. “The effects of your room…” He was quiet for a few heartbeats, long enough for Virgil to silently move to stand right in front of him. It didn’t seem as though Logan could see him.

“Virgil,” he begged, his voice barely a whisper now. “Let me go. I don’t like it here.” He wrapped his arms around his stomach. “Please. I don’t feel good. _I’m afraid.”_

Cold realization snapped Virgil out of his angry fantasy. _What am I_ **_doing?_ **

Cold, invisible hands gripped his throat. _Gods, what had he done?_

Gently he took Logan’s shoulders, steering him towards the door. “I know. Come on.”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

His heart _cracked._ “No. No, I’m not.”

He led a shell-shocked Logan down the thankfully empty hallway. He helped Logan into his room, cajoling him into laying down. “I’m sorry,” he begged softly, looking for absolution that he could never accept, not for what he done. He carefully pulled a blanket up around Logan, giving him a watery, sad smile.

Logan just blinked back at him, unseeingly. “Thank you,” he absently recited. The dark eye shadow under his eyes made Virgil want to scream until his throat bled. _You did this._

Guilt churned in his stomach. He hadn’t done anything worth his gratitude. “You’ll be fine,” he reassured himself more than anyone, watching Logan close his eyes, watching his chest rise and fall for a few breaths.

Then he slunk back down the hall like the monster he felt he was.

*

He stumbled out of his room sometime mid-morning, intending to only go downstairs long enough to get an energy drink, a soda, coffee, _something._ But the moment he entered the kitchen, Roman was standing in his field of view, far too close to him.

Roman was all steely eyes and grimaces. “Do you really think we hate you?”

Virgil blinked. “I – what the fuck Princey?”

Roman jabbed a finger into his chest. “Do you think you’re a villain?”

Virgil shoved past him towards the refrigerator. “Back off,” he growled. “I just woke up.” _And I didn’t really sleep._

He pulled a can from the fridge and made to head back up stairs when his gaze collided with Logan’s. Logan and Patton were both sitting at the table. He stood frozen as he took in Logan’s expression. Resentment or anger were what he was expecting, but gods, somehow Logan just looked… worried.

“L–logan…” he stuttered out, his fingers turning white as his grip around the can in his hands tightened. He looked away, briefly taking in the open and concerned expression on Patton’s face before attempting to memorize the pattern of the kitchen tile floor. “I’m sorry about last night,” he apologized quietly. “I didn’t–” He risked a glance up at Logan, before looking away again. Gods, he needed to get out, he needed out of the kitchen, he needed away, needed to push _them_ away – “You shouldn’t have come in my room.” He all but ran towards the doorway, eyes widening in horror when Roman stepped sideways to block his exit.

“Not so fast, panic! in the kitchen.” The usual humor in Roman’s voice that accompanied his nicknames was conspicuously absent.

**“Move.”**

A hint of fear crossed Roman’s face, but he stood still, looking over Virgil’s shoulder, probably at the others. Whatever he saw, he stepped aside.

Virgil fled upstairs like the kitchen was on fire.

He couldn’t climb the stairs fast enough, couldn’t open his door quick enough. He was certain the others were just behind, waiting to - well, to do he didn’t know what.

He had never been happier to step into his room. The door shut behind him with a comforting thud, but his heart still raced. Caffeine was out of the question now; he set the can he had retrieved from the kitchen on his desk. It hadn’t been worth it.

He paced his room, zipping the zipper of his jacket up and down, up and down, trying to dispel some of his pent up adrenaline.

 _You’re okay. You’re fine. It’s over now._ Despite his inner reassurances, his body refused to cooperate, continuing to react as if someone were chasing him.

He walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, roughly dragging fingers through his hair, only to immediate start pacing again.

Gods, they must all really hate him now. He hadn’t been able to look Logan in the eye, hadn’t been able to hold any of their gazes really. _Stupid._ He had accused Logan out of nowhere: _you shouldn’t have come in my room._ He winced, his words haunting his mind. Why had he said that? And Roman – he had seen the other side flinch when he used his scary voice (and if Roman had flinched, Patton must have been truly terrified). And worse still, he hadn’t even _meant_ to use his scary voice. _You’re slipping._

He groaned, willing his darker thoughts to be quiet for just this once. He wanted to cry.

Hearing a knock on the door, he barely registered walking over and opening the door. Roman blinked, looking surprised.

Suddenly coming back to himself, Virgil took a quick inventory. Hair sticking up everywhere from messing with it? Check. Jacket in disarray and pulled too far to the left on his shoulders? Check. Eyeshadow darker than normal? Probably. Grimace on his face? Always.

Shrinking back from the door, he wished for all the world to turn invisible. A fight with Roman was the last thing he needed.

“Leave.”

Roman crossed his arms. There was a stubborn set in his jaw that Virgil recognized from some of their longer, more drawn out arguments. It promised Roman would get whatever he had come for. “No.”

“What do you _want_ from me?” It was more of a desperate whine than anything else but Virgil found he didn’t care. His energy was rapidly fading now, and he really needed a long depression nap.

“I think we need to talk.”

Virgil pulled the door closer to his body, shutting more of his room from Roman’s view. “You’re not coming in here.” _Not after what happened to Logan._

Roman glanced over his shoulder, down the hallway, presumably towards the common area downstairs. “I thought –”

“I am _not_ going out there.”

“Splendid.” Roman frowned. He narrowed his eyes, searching for something in Virgil’s face. “Fine.” He sat down on the floor, just outside the threshold of Virgil’s room. He looked up, beckoning for him to join him on the floor.

Virgil just looked down at him in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

Roman’s gaze grew harder, his words a bit sharper. “I’m _waiting.”_

Part of him really, really wanted to slam the door in Roman’s face and crawl into bed and pretend he didn’t exist and the others didn’t exist and he would never have to leave his room or deal with reality ever again. But he knew he couldn’t do that. Roman would break the door down, or worse, get the others involved.

Reluctantly, he pushed the door open and sat down on the floor just across from Roman, inside his room.

“So…”

Virgil just watched him, not making any attempt to reply. Where would he even start?

Roman’s mouth twisted to the side. He sighed, but his expression softened. “Logan told us what happened last night.”

He winced. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn’t–” But what could he say? What would make what he had done right? For a brief, horrifying moment, he had wanted Logan to feel as scared as he did. He had hurt him, just to try to make himself feel better. And there was no justifying that.

But Roman just shook his head. “We know. Logan knows. He’s okay.”

The silence was deafening. Virgil was sure Roman could hear how loud his heart was beating.

“Did you – did you mean what you said, to Logan?” The way Roman’s eyebrows were furrowed, the concern coming off him in waves, Virgil knew which part he meant.

He shrugged. “Yeah.” He ignored the way Roman’s face fell, pushing on to hopefully get everything he needed to say out. “It’s… I know I’m a dark side. I know you guys don’t want me here – or at least you didn’t at first,” he hurriedly corrected himself when Roman started to protest. “And part of that was on me. I pushed all of you away – hard. I know I’m anxiety, but I played into it, letting all the worst parts show. I thought if you guys were gonna hate me, may as well give you a reason, right?” He gave a humorless chuckle. “But then…” He ran a hand across his face before shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Patton started trying to befriend me. And Logan started trying to calm me down when I got worked up. Even you. You tried to be nicer to me even when I was kind of an ass to you.”

Roman gave him a helpless smile that evaporated when Virgil kept going.

“But sometimes you guys still push me away. You don’t want me around, you don’t want me making decisions or giving my opinion. Patton tries to be nice about it but it still stings. It’s…” He shook his head, frustrated. “You can’t understand what it’s like to be unwanted for so long and then be given hope, only to have it snatched away from you. It hurts so much worse that way.”

He leaned his head against the doorframe of his room. “I wanted you guys to like me for so long. I wanted _you_ to like me.” Roman’s eyes widened, and Virgil’s gaze flicked away, unable to handle the scrutiny. “Anyways, it’s fine, whatever, you know. I’m just terrified all the time and sick of… of getting my hopes up.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Virgil…”

He stood up quickly, suddenly regretting spilling his feelings. “That’s all for today, folks,” he mumbled dryly, trying to close his door.

Roman caught it with his arm, and suddenly three faces were looking at him from the open crack to the hallway.

Virgil stumbled backwards, surprised, and they pushed the door open. Patton flung himself at Virgil, hugging him tightly.

“How long have you been here?” Virgil asked, muffled by Patton’s shoulder.

Logan answered, “Long enough.”

He winced, slowly pushing them back towards the door. Patton looked at him, wide-eyed and disappointed.

“You can’t stay in here, Pat. You know that.”

Patton grabbed his hand and linked their fingers, gently tugged Virgil towards the hallway with him, giving him big, sad eyes the whole time.

Virgil sighed, following after him, unable to deny him. When they all stood out in the hallway, Patton wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning into his side. Virgil was silently grateful for the comfort.

“Virgil, I wish you had told us how you felt.” Logan said, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

Roman suddenly burst out, “You’re not the only one allowed to be afraid you know!”

Virgil tensed, falling back on old habits and scoffing, “You? Afraid?”

Logan hissed Roman’s name, but Roman was on a roll. “No! I’m not – it’s – you’re – ugh!” He ran fingers harshly through his hair. “It’s hard! You can’t expect everything to be fixed overnight –”

“It’s been _months!”_

“–and we’re trying our best! Maybe if you actually talked to us about how you feel, we could accept you easier. We don’t want to fight any more than you do.” Roman made another frustrated noise, at which Virgil rolled his eyes.

“You rang?”

They all turned to see Deceit standing just behind Patton and Virgil, a single eyebrow raised.

“Please leave,” Logan said cooly.

Patton grimaced. “I don’t think we need you here.”

Virgil’s stomach sank at their words, remembering different times the same words had been directed at him.

“Ah ah,” Deceit chided, raising a single finger and pointing it at Roman. “The drama queen over there summoned me.”

Virgil turned an accusatory glare towards Roman, carefully removing himself from Patton’s grasp at the same time. “So it was a lie then? Everything you said?”

Roman glared daggers at Deceit, looking for all the world like he was trying to set him aflame with a look. “No,” he spat.

Virgil felt a hand on his shoulder and flinched, turning slightly to find Deceit far too close to him.

Logan was glancing between them, his eyebrows rising. “What is – are you two friends?”

“I thought you hated him.” Patton was watching Virgil with a confused frown.

Virgil glanced helplessly at Deceit, who only smiled, mischief in his eyes. He struggled to explain, “We know each other from… before. It’s complicated.” He turned his head, leaning closer to Deceit, if only in part to upset the others. If Deceit was there, they were lying, and that _hurt._ “Was he lying? About what he told me?”

Deceit gave him a knowing look, his tone somewhere between reproachful and apologetic. “You know he was.”

Virgil’s hands clenched into fists inside his jacket pockets. “About what?”

“He said he wasn’t afraid.” Virgil’s eyes widened in realization. “He is.”

“I’m not!” Roman squawked, shrinking away from the weight of everyone’s stares.

Some of Virgil’s anger dropped away. “Roman… what are you afraid of?”

Roman took a step back, shrieking in a high voice, “I’m not afraid!”

“Lie,” Deceit said in a sing-song voice.

“I – I’m afraid of Deceit!”

There was a pause, and Virgil glanced sideways at Deceit, to find him looking thoughtful. “Lie,” he said slowly, as though he was surprised.

“I’m afraid –”

“Lie,” Deceit cut him off once more, pretending to inspect his nails with an air of exaggerated disinterest. “Are you really going to keep doing this? You know I can tell when you’re lying. It’s futile.”

Patton encouraged him, “Just tell us, Roman. It’s okay.” He offered one of his warm, reassuring smiles, and Virgil watched it wear Roman down.

Roman sighed, glancing between everyone before finally locking gazes with Virgil. He took a deep breath and then stood up a little straighter. “It’s me you can’t seem to get along with. You do alright with the others, but for some reason we always end up fighting. It’s just – how are we supposed to – if we can’t even be in the same room for half an hour…” He looked so lost and helpless. “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave, in the end.” Patton let out a gasp. “I’m creativity. Thomas is getting older and he doesn’t need me as much as he needs you now and – and I–” He sniffled, catching Patton as he threw his arms around him. He shifted his head to sit on Patton’s shoulder, still looking at the others. “I just want us to be okay,” he sobbed miserably.

Virgil said absolutely nothing. He blinked quickly, taking in a long shuddering breath. Slowly but surely, he took baby steps towards the two hugging sides and carefully joined their hug.

“No one is leaving,” Patton said fiercely, easily accepting Virgil into their embrace.

Logan stepped closer, laying a hand on Roman and Virgil’s shoulders, gently squeezing. “You have nothing to worry about, Roman. I think that is what we all want as well.”

“And Deceit too,” Virgil muttered quickly, deciding if they were going to fix things, it was all or nothing.

“Ah no. Deceit declines,” the side in question said dryly.

But Patton somehow wormed his way out the embrace, snagging Deceit and pulling Logan into the hug along with him. They ended up with Deceit and Logan in the middle, Patton hugging them (read: holding them both in place), and Roman and Virgil with their fingers interlaced on the other side.

“And Deceit too,” Patton repeated with a happy smugness.

Deceit grumbled something under his breath, but otherwise didn’t protest.

Virgil tried his very best to convey everything he was feeling as he looked at Roman. Somehow he thought he understood.

“We’re going to be okay,” Patton started as a statement, but somehow it ended sounding like a question, “Aren’t we?”

“If we work towards, as Roman so _elegantly_ put it, ‘us being okay,’ and we all commit to communicating with one another better in the future, then I am certain that a peace can be –”

Logan’s voice grew muffled as Deceit covered his mouth with one of his gloved hands. “I don’t do feelings,” he deadpanned.

“Dude, that wasn’t even feelings. In fact, that was the only not feelings thing for like the past twenty minutes.” Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Well I for one appreciated Logan’s sentiments.”

“Aww Roman,” Patton agreed cheerily, “I liked what he said too. It touched my heart.”

Virgil was certain he saw Logan blush. “Please let me go.”

Deceit, still standing in the middle of their hug, next to Logan, turned to him with a suspiciously wide grin. He wormed his arms around Logan as Patton ‘aww’ed softly, pulling them all in a bit tighter.

Roman tugged on his and Virgil’s linked hands, pressing a kiss to the back of Virgil’s hand. He fought down his own blush, suddenly finding the floor very interesting to look at.

Maybe things would be okay after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments mean the world to me!
> 
> Also if you notice any grammar/spelling mistakes, please fix me!


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